


Distractions

by afteriwake



Series: On My Way To Satisfaction [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly and Sherlock are playing a timed trivia game and each one of them is trying to distract the other on their turn. It just so happens that Molly is infinitely better at distracting him than he is at distracting her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> So yes. Inspired by an **imagineyourotp** prompt ("Imagine your OTP playing a timed trivia game. While Person A is trying to answer the questions, Person B tries to distract them so they can win. Person A starts running their fingers through Person B's hair. Then Person A continues to run their hands down Person B's body until they start rubbing Person B's crotch. Person B gets flustered, loses, glares at Person A, picks them up and takes them to the bedroom"). And yes, I _can_ actually write more than two sexual positions. Here's proof.

With Molly he attempted to be normal. He could actually pull it off most of the time, surprisingly. With her he was not a human robot who had turned off all emotions. With her he was actually a living, breathing, _caring_ human being. His friends had all been shocked by the changes, even if they didn't always reap the benefits. He found that when he was with her, and sometimes around his friends as well, that he wanted to be a person they wanted to spend time with. He had slowly started to expand his circle of friends, and he found life to be better because of it.

He didn't know when he had started to feel that way about her. Most likely it had started during the Christmas party and built from there. Slowly and steadily, they had built a friendship, but then he had had to leave after Moriarty died on the roof. Over time he realized he wanted more, but he thought his chance had passed by the time he returned. It took a fist to the face from John and the worst hangover he'd ever had for him to admit to her that he fancied her, and when she agreed to give him a chance he was elated. However, the first date had not gone remotely according to plan, and he was almost worried he had ruined things before they had even started. But when she kissed him in the middle of the sidewalk with rain pouring on them after yet another thing had gone wrong he realized she was made of sterner stuff. She wanted to be with him and not even a ruined date could scare her off. 

They had been together five months now. He was comfortable with her, and he enjoyed spending time with her. The whole idea that he could be in a relationship and be _happy_ had been surprising to him, just as much as it had been to everyone except Molly. Apparently Molly had known he was capable of being that way with her. She was smarter than him in a few respects, he knew that much. Matters of the heart tended to be one of those areas. And he was letting her set the pace of the relationship, more or less, because she was considerate of what he might need. 

They had only become intimate two months ago. He was honestly surprised that had happened at all; he knew she had wanted it but had not pushed, and he had been grateful for that. It had been a very long time for him, and the idea that he might actually be _bad_ at something had scared him off of moving their relationship to that level of intimacy. It wasn't until she asked him why that he voiced his fears. She simply told him that if the first few times were rubbish they'd just keep trying until it wasn't. And the first two or three times _had_ been rubbish, but he was learning what she liked and she was doing the same with him. The old adage “practice makes perfect” was certainly true for the two of them.

Today it was raining and the two of them had decided it was not worth braving the weather. They were at her home, lounging in the clothes they had worn to bed the night before, and the two of them had spent a rather enjoyable morning together so far. When they had finally emerged from her bedroom to eat he kept plotting ways to convince her it was in both their best interests to go right back to bed. But she had other ideas, and so now he was playing a trivia game with her. Thankfully it was not just pop culture trivia, as he would have failed miserably at that, but she was still beating him. That would not do. Currently he was waiting for her to finish answering her question.

“George Washington!” she said after a moment, excited that she had thought of the answer as to who the first president of the United States had been. He stopped the timer as she frowned slightly. “These questions are oddly geared towards American history.”

“I'm doing it on purpose,” he said with a slight grin.

She swatted at his shoulder. “That's mean, Sherlock. Just for that, I'm picking all pop culture questions for you next round.”

He looked back at the card. “Who was the first signer of the Declaration of Independence?” he asked before hitting the button on the timer again. “You have a minute and a half to answer two more questions.”

“I know,” she said, chewing her bottom lip. “I know the answer. His name is in a phrase.”

“Ben Franklin,” he said. He knew if he tossed out the wrong answers she'd never get it.

“No, that's not it.”

“Thomas Jefferson.”

“Sherlock...”

“John Adams,” he said.

Her eyes got wide. “John Hancock!” she said. He frowned slightly and she got a wide smile on his face when he stopped the timer. “I'm right! I knew it.”

“Fine.”

“You know, if you keep trying to distract me I'm just going to get payback when it's your turn,” she said, leaning back slightly on her side of the sofa. “And I'm a lot more wicked.”

“Well, you have an unfair advantage. You know more pointless trivia than I do,” he pointed out.

“It's because you delete all of it from your mind palace,” she said with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow. “You know I think that's a funny term and I'll poke fun at it whenever I can.”

“Yes, I know,” he said. “Just like I tease you about your hideous jumpers.”

“I'm British. I think we're required to have hideous jumpers.”

He grinned slightly at that. “You would think retailers would stop making them.”

“There's too much business in making them and selling them to unsuspecting people. It's like Americans and their baseball caps, I think. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a law somewhere that said all British people have to own at least one hideous jumper, and all Americans have to have at least one baseball cap. Sports team insignia not required, of course.”

“Of course. And I must be the only British person who doesn't have a hideous jumper,” Sherlock said with a touch of pride.

“Then I definitely know what I'm getting you for Christmas,” she said with a smirk. “Okay. I have two more questions and how much time?”

He looked at the timer. “Seventy-five seconds.”

“I can do this,” she said, looking determined. “Next question.”

“This president served four terms in office,” he replied, starting the timer.

“I actually know this one right off! It's Franklin Delano Roosevelt,” she said with a smug look. She got a wide grin on her face when he stopped the timer immediately. “Okay, Sherlock. Last question, and then I get to torture you with a pop culture card.”

He looked at the last question. “This preacher got killed at the height of the Civil Rights movement.” He started the timer again.

“Martin Luther King, Jr.,” she said, nodding once. Sherlock sighed and reset the timer to three minutes. “Yes!”

“You are going to be a sore winner, aren't you?” he asked.

She looked at him. “I'll try my best not to be,” she said, her wide grin softening into a smaller smile. “And I'll even be nice and give you an easy card.” She reached over for the box of cards and moved cards until she got to the science section. She plucked one out and showed him the top. “See? Science.”

“Thank you,” he said with a nod. 

She moved the timer over towards her. “All right. First question: what charges can an ion have?”

“Positive and negative,” he said before she even started the timer.

“Sherlock, I'm supposed to start the timer before you answer,” she said, though she was smiling still as she said it.

“Sorry,” he said. “Pick a new card. We'll start my round over.”

“Okay.” She looked at them all. She plucked one out of the music section. “This one appears to be a card you might know.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“All classical musicians,” she said. “Okay. First question, and this time wait until I start the timer, all right?” He nodded. “This musician composed the music for Swan Lake.”

She started the timer and he paused. He knew the answer, he did. Or at least he thought he did. There were not a lot of violin solos in ballets, so he had not bothered to learn many of the songs. As he was thinking Molly reached over and began to run her fingers through his curls. He looked at her. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Distracting you,” she said with an impish grin. She knew one of the things that turned him on was her running her fingertips through his hair. “I told you, I'm wicked.”

“Beethoven,” he said, trying not to get distracted.

“Nope,” she replied, moving her hand lower, letting her fingertips graze the side of his face. She was keeping her touch feather light.

“William Tell?” he said, and he was cursing himself for not thinking clearly. He _knew_ the answer, he really did.

“No,” she said, moving her hand lower, running her hand down his chest. She curled her fingers slightly as she did, scratching his chest a bit.

He shut his eyes and tried to go to his mind palace to think. He was going to get the answer right if it killed him. “Mozart.”

“Wrong again,” she said, moving her fingers towards his stomach.

He was not about to admit she was infinitely better at distracting than he was. He couldn't think clearly, especially as her fingers drifted lower. He already knew he was starting to get aroused, especially as she leaned in more. She let her hand drift down to his crotch and she began to rub the area slightly. She leaned in even more and pressed a kiss to his neck before nipping slightly at the skin there. He swallowed thickly and tried to think without much success. “I give up,” he said, his voice just slightly strained.

“Tchaikovsky,” she murmured against his neck. “I win this round.”

He felt himself grow even more aroused as her hands continued to caress him. He pulled away and she looked at him, blinking slightly, but he stood up and then knelt down, picking her up off the seat. “I will admit you are smarter than me when it comes to pointless knowledge, but right now I don't care about the bloody game. I'm taking you back to bed.”

She laughed throatily and put her arms around his neck as she moved closer to him. “I was getting bored anyway,” she said as she pressed a kiss to his neck.

He carried her to her bedroom. Thankfully the door was open and he carried her in and set her down in front of the bed. He pulled her close against him and kissed her thoroughly, and she kissed him back with just as much eagerness even as she reached for the hem of the T-shirt he had been lounging in today. He only pulled away from the kiss to let her pull it over his head, and then he retaliated by pulling her own T-shirt up. He got it off of her and then reached around to undo her bra. He slid the straps down and moved in to kiss one side of her neck. She pulled her body away slightly to let the bra fall to the floor, and then she pressed close against him. He moved back up to kiss her again, then began backing them towards the bed.

When they got close Molly maneuvered them so Sherlock was the one who touched the bed first. He grinned into the kiss as he sat down on the bed and pulled her on top of him. She straddled his lap and used the leverage to kiss him deeply. He could feel his erection growing as she pulled away from the kiss and got off of him. He moved further up the bed and then she got on top of him again. She put a hand on either side of his head and kissed him for a moment before moving away from his lips to his neck, nipping at the skin there. She trailed her way down, moving more as she nipped at his chest and then his stomach. She got to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and he dutifully lifted his hips off. She carefully peeled his pyjama bottoms and pants away from him, freeing his erection. She pulled them off of him completely and then lowered her mouth onto his erection. He groaned, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back as she moved up and down. She didn't do this often but this was definitely something he enjoyed. She moved her hand to his sac and began to tease them. If she wasn't careful she wasn't going to get any pleasure herself, he realized. But this felt incredibly good. He reached down and tangled his fingers in her hair as she continued her ministrations.

“Enough,” he said throatily when he felt close to coming. She pulled away from him. “You deserve pleasure too.”

“Then I know just what to do,” she said with a grin. She pulled away from him and stripped out of the rest of her clothes. She got back on the bed and straddled him. She positioned him at her entrance and then lowered herself onto him. He thrust his hips upward as she began to ride him hard and fast. He was so close to orgasm but he would try and hold off until he felt her come as well. After a moment he moved his hand between them and toyed with her clit. He could hear her breath hitch and she started to moan low in her throat. Soon she was tightening around him and he moved his hand away, grasping her hips and thrusting upwards as he came. When they were done they were both panting, her more than him.

“You don't do either of those things often,” he murmured as she leaned forward, her bare breasts brushing his chest.

“I didn't want to be accused of being a sore winner,” she said with an impish grin before leaning in and kissing him. He moved a hand up to cup the back of her head and keep her close, and she only pulled away to catch her breath.

“I'll lose any game we play purposely if I get that reward,” he murmured, running a hand down her back, trailing his fingers along her spine.

She chuckled. “It doesn't work that way, Sherlock.”

“I can try.”

“Yeah, you can try.” She kissed him again, this time much more quickly than he would have liked, then she moved off of him and got off the bed. “I think I'm going to take a shower and clean myself up. You are more than welcome to join me.”

“I think I will,” he said with a grin. He didn't get off the bed quite yet, leveraging himself up on his elbows to watch her saunter out of the room. Yes, he had to admit, he certainly did like it when she took charge. He didn't think he would be so lucky for her to reward him for losing any more games any time soon so he was definitely going to enjoy it while he could. After a moment he got up and left the room. Now he just had to convince her to spend the rest of the day in bed, and he was fairly sure he could be more persuasive this time around.


End file.
